Return To The World Of Guertena
by Firebird'sDaughter
Summary: Ib's family win passes to a new Guertena exhibit from a contest they never entered. Things go wrong quickly, and they are pushed into a strange Abyss with three other people. In another world, they work to get home. But Ib's sister Mary is being odd, and Gallery owner Sven is acting increasingly erratically. Just what is the Fabricated World? And who is Guertena? Rating may change.
1. The Envelope

**_Alright... I need to stop watching videos and then staying up so late. I want to say that I've never played this game myself, but I've watched other people play it. I liked the story and characters, and my mind went into that stupid overdrive thing it does when I'm sleep deprived. So, I felt I had to write this, however unrealistic it is._**

**_SPOILERS abound._**

**_This sort of takes place nine years after a combination of the Forgotten Portrait and Together Forever endings (though I'm not sure if there is one such in the game, or if Mary taking Garry's rose is still part of the Together ending). Either way, the point of this is that I don't like Mary, I love Garry, and I actually like Guertena. I play fast and loose with Guertena's timeline here, but what the hell? Because Ib was TOTALLY logical to BEGIN with._**

**_I wouldn't mind owning Ib, but I do not._**

* * *

It was a thick envelope that had the velvety feel of flower petals. It was a deep purple, a royal colour, like a perfect night sky. But there was something about the envelope and the graceful, shimmery silver writing on it that made Ib distinctly nervous. Perhaps it was the way it smelled so familiar, and yet she could not place the scent. Perhaps it was the fact that neither of her parents recognised the name on the name on the return address.

Or perhaps it was the way her sister Mary tried to burn it before their parents saw it.

Both girls were legally adults now, with Ib at eighteen and Mary at nineteen, and Ib had thought they were beyond this childishness. But when Mary had taken one look at the envelope's contents and then tried to throw it in the fire, Ib felt compelled to scold her for it. Mary had apologised, but she had refused to look her younger sister in the eye. When their parents opened it, they were bewildered.

"They're museum passes." Their mother murmured, looking through the silvery rectangles of paper.

"Yes, but why send them to **us**?" Demanded their father.

"According to the letter, they're for winning an online contest."

"Kara, neither of us ever **entered** such a contest."

"I don't know, Karl. The letter mentions us all by name, and specifically requests we come to opening night. Apparently, Weiss Guertena's son is also contributing to the exhibit with more modern pieces." She turned the sheaf over. "I don't see the harm in it. The Gallery's been closed for ages, ever since our visit nine years ago! I think it would be lovely!" Whiel her husband, Karl, grumbled about it, Kara eventually won out, and the date was marked on the calendar in red marker.

The evening before the opening, Ib retreated into her room, closing the door against Mary's questioning. For some reason she couldn't name, she felt an immeasurable sadness about returning to the Gallery, though she couldn't imagine why. She hadn't been there since she was nine and Mary was ten, when they'd wandered off for a few hours alone, but her memory of that time was very vague. There were only blurs of colour and sound, probably due to the strange artwork. It was odd, though - out of all of the different ones, one colour dominated them all; and absolute, deep, blue, the colour of the sea on a clear day. Ib hated the colour blue. Not because she thought it was ugly; in fact it was **because** it was beautiful that she hated it. Whenever she looked at blue, she always wanted to cry, no matter the situation. Her mother and sister would rush to comfort her, and ask her what was wrong, but she never knew.

All she could call to mind was blue, and a rose.

These memories, or lack thereof, was why Ib was curled up in her bed, clutching her stuffed animal to her chest. She was tall now, and beautiful, with long, straight dark hair and almost crimson eyes. This earned her a great deal of attention from the boys at school, but she neglected to pay any of them any mind. Other girls called her 'the Ice Queen' and feared her. Once, one of them had gotten up the nerve to ask her why she didn't accept one of the numerous requests for dates she received; Ib had surprised herself by automatically replying that she was waiting for someone. The girl's eyes had gone all starry.

"**Really**? That's **so** ro**mantic**! Who?" Ib had had to pause for a moment before answering, because she really didn't know what she was talking about.

"I... I don't know." The girl had left her alone after that.

Slowly, fitfully, Ib drifted off into sleep, sometime late in the night, but her dreams provided her with no escape from the feelings she didn't understand.

_She stumbled down the hallway in the dark, her hand running along the wall. Where had she gone? It couldn't be far._

**_I'll get it back. I _**must**_ get it back,_**

_The sound of a voice ahead of her made her run faster, her feet thudding against the ground, her chest hurting. There was blue strewn on the floor._

**_No. No. No no no no no!_**

_She _had_ to catch up. The voice was getting closer now. She was almost there! Mustering the last of her strength, she burst into the room, a scream tearing from her throat._

_"STOP!"_

_The figure in the room turned. She could see an outline, hair, a dress, a bow. She couldn't see her face in the blinding light. But that didn't matter. She could feel her heart cracking. She was too late._

_A shredded rose stem fell to the ground._

_Dead._

Ib woke up screaming a word she didn't know, a name she couldn't remember.

And she didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

"I'm so glad you decided to come! I'm the curator here, Helena von Bismark!" The woman was relatively young, and dark, from her hair to her skin to her eyes. It fell in a single black wave down her back, and her similarly black eyes smiled at them out of her dark brown face. She had a slight German accent and a nice smile, perfect, white teeth glittering in her face, her hands linked behind her back in her maroon suit and pencil skirt, black blouse and heels.

"We were certainly surprised." Kara was explaining. Helena laughed gaily, moving her hands to clasp Ib's mother's hand in both of hers.

"Oh, of **course**! That was the **point**!" She turned to the girls. "I'm **so** happy it was a family. I **love** it when young people get to see art. I'm **certain** you two will enjoy yourselves!" They both shook her offered hand. Ib liked her. She was kind and warm, if a little too perky for comfort. "The owner really **should** be here to meet you, but he's so **dreadfully** lazy about such things." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Tell you what, you go wander the GAllery, and I'll come get you when I've found him!" It was agreed that they would do this, and the family moved off. Mary took Ib's hand and pulled her away from their parents, promising to meet later. The pieces were labeled by artist, some merely reading 'Guertena,' while others added another letter: S. Guertena.

"That must be the son..." Mary whispered, and Ib agreed, for those pieces were always the technological and computerised ones. Then, they passed one portrait that made her pull free of her sister's hand to stop and stare at it.

The man was young, about their age, with lavender and indigo hair. He appeared to be asleep, surrounded by blue roses and a single, yellow candy wrapper.

Blue. Roses.

Ib's chest clenched, and she felt the sadness overwhelming her again, this time even greater than before. Something about this painting, and it's label 'The Forgotten Portrait, Guertena,' made tears spring to her eyes, and guilt an loss wash over her. Why? Why did **this** painting move her so when none of the others did? Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt Mary tugging at her arm.

"Ib! C'mon, that one's too blue. You'll only depress yourself! You know how you are!" Finally, unwillingly, she tore her eyes away from the young man's face, trying to wipe the tears away, and followed her sister into another room. This one was entirely by 'S. Guertena,' filled with robotics and mechanics. A falcon flew around the chandelier in circles, and the wall plaque identified it as 'The Hunter, S. Guertena.' Mary wandered off to go look at the mechanical, singing mermaid, leaving Ib temporarily alone. She looked around blankly, until the piece at the centre of the room caught her eye, and she approached it slowly. It was smaller than all the others, a holographic video of a life-sized rose, through then entirety of it's life. It grew, and began to blossom, producing a bud of pure red - as it got bigger, whoever, blue seemed to be painted over the petals, until the realistic, full-fledged flower was a glorious purple, the same colour as the envelope that had brought them here. Then, as gracefully as it had been born, the rose wilted, fading away; as she watched, though, a sprout appeared from the rotting remains of the old one, restarting the cycle. Ib stood mesmerised by the delicate, detailed display, holding her breath, and watching the circle go again and again.

"It's called 'The Phoenix Rose.'" She jumped and gasped at the voice, turning. He was tall, and thin, perhaps **too** thin, and pale. He was dressed in a slightly rumpled dress shirt and pants, shiny black shoes, with a leather jacket pulled over his shoulders. Slowly, her eyes moved to his face, and she jerked back in shock.

The man from 'The Forgotten Portrait' gazed back at her in bewilderment.

"Problem?" She blinked. No, it wasn't the man from the painting, though the thin, fine-boned face **was** a trifle similar. This man had odd, violet eyes, and a floppy, visored black hat that fell into his face quite a bit. His hair was pale blonde, in a slightly rumpled ponytail that fell to his shoulders. When she shook her head, he walked forward to stand beside her.

"You... You were saying?" He looked sideways at her from under his hat.

"It's called 'The Phoenix Rose.' It's by S. Guertena. I heard rumours that the kid put his **life** into it, his very soul." Ib frowned, disliking this without knowing why, when a voice came from behind them.

"**There** you are, Sven!" Both Ib and the man turned. Helena was walking quickly over to them, Ib and Mary's parents in tow. Mary quickly joined her sister, though Ib didn't miss the brief, suspicious glance she threw at the man who was apparently named Sven. "**Where** have you been?" Sven shrugged.

"Eh, lounging about the Gallery. I feel I should be allowed to look at some oft he art I show." Helena groaned loudly, but stayed professional.

"This is Sven. He's the owner of the Gallery now, and the one who sent the passes." Sven smiled tiredly at them.

"Yes, yes, hello, hello." Kara frowned.

"Um, Mister..."

"Sven is fine."

"Mr. Sven, if you don't mind... How **old** are you?" Ib blinked at her mother's question, looking the man over herself, and realising that he was no taller than she. Sven shrugged.

"Just turned eighteen this year." Both Kara and Karl reacted with shock, but quickly recovered.

"W-wow! And you own a gallery already! That's impressive!" Sven looked away, gripping the brim of his hat and pulling it down further in front of his face.

"Well, I was an emancipated minor." He muttered dismissively. "Got started early." There was an awkward silence, and Helena quickly rushed in to fill it.

"Sven is an absolutely **genius** with machines!" She exclaimed, but Ib detected a note of false cheer in her voice. "It's thanks to him that we were able to get S. Guertena's works up and running!"

"Really?" Mary quipped, drawing Sven's attention to her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the young man's face visibly twisted with dislike. Then, he recovered.

"I did a bit."

"Only because your grandmother told you to. I mean, **honestly**! You could try listening to other people once in a while!" Sven looked away from Mary, and flashed his small smile at Helena.

"Nah. Work's **hard**. I'd rather sleep." Helena laughed slightly, sounding only a little irritated.

"Alright, now that we're-"

"Sven!" A woman's voice echoed through the Gallery, making the other patrons turn, confused and surprised. A tall, regal woman was making her way deliberately toward their group, her mouth set. Her hair was completely white, as was her dress, that Ib thought she had seen in one of those high-end fashion magazines earlier that year. She had clearly once been very beautiful, but age had added a sense of majesty and authority. She came to a stop in front of them, setting her hands on her hips. "Sven! What do you think you're doing? The Giant in room six is having malfunctions, go fix it!" Sven swallowed, gripped his hat tighter,a and bowed his head.

"Yes, ma'am." He mumbled, and scooted off. Helena looked after him, then turned back to the woman.

"How **do** you **do** it?" The woman in white moved closer.

"It's simple." She said. "If you want Sven to do something, you just have to make it worth his while." She looked around at the group until her gaze lighted on the girls. For a moment, Ib gazed into her silver eyes, clear as crystal and strong as it, too. Then, they suddenly clouded, and the woman's face changed, losing the confidence and assurance it had possessed before. "It's you!" She cried in trilling tones, grabbing Ib's hands. "You came back! I always knew you would! You'll help us, won't you? Help us save them? No, don't answer, I'm sure you will. That's why you came, right?" She was shaking Ib by this time, her expression almost desperate. "**Right**?"

"Adolfa!" Helena put a hand on her arm. "It's alright!" Mary put her arms around Ib and pulled her away.

"Stop it!" This was a mistake. The instant she saw Mary, the woman, Adolfa, began to shriek, pointing at the blonde girl.

"You! **You**! Get away! Get away from us! You... You murderer! You vile **murderer**! You killed him, yes you did! We know! We saw everything! You killed him, Mistress Mary, you murderer! You'll pay!" She made a violent go at Mary, but was stopped by Helena's arms. The other guests cleared out of the room, while Sven, hearing the shouting, burst back in.

"Grandmother! Grandmother, calm down!" He ran over to help Helena, and the three sank to the floor, the curator and owner holding the old woman up as she shivered, clinging to Sven. Helena disentangled herself, turning to them.

"I'm sorry. Dame Adolfa has some... Mental instabilities, most likely due to the abrupt and early death of her son, Sven's father, sixteen years ago. Trust me, she's harmless." Ib nodded uncomfortably, but kept a hold on Mary's hand. Sven talked his grandmother back onto her feet, putting an arm around her. Helena looked at him. "Perhaps touring teh gallery will make us all calm down?" He nodded.

"Sounds better than working." Helena rolled her eyes, but led the way out of the room.

It was Sven who stopped them in front of the giant painting at the top of the stairs.

"I always liked this one."

"Why?" Helena asked jokingly. "Because it looks like he put in about as much effort as you do in your everyday life?" He chuckled a bit, tugging at his hat, then looked over at Ib.

"Say, Ib? You want to read that plaque for me?" Mary jolted.

"Can't you-" She started, but Ib nodded and moved closer to it.

"'Fabricated World, Guertena. Once you step through it, there is no going back.'" As soon as she finished, the lights flickered. For a moment, all was quiet, and the Ib noticed something dripping from the picture frame.

Blue.

"What just happened?" Kara wondered aloud.

"It may have been the breaker, but its seems fine now" Helena assured them. "Please don't panic." Karl put an arm around his wife.

"Not to worry. Happens all the time at our house."

Blue.

Mary was on the verge of panicking, despite Helena's words, wringing her hands and shifting from foot to foot. Adolfa was gazing curiously at her grandson.

Blue. Blue paint. Ib had seen this before, This ooze. This colour. But where? **Where**?

"Sven? You alright?" Helena's voice nearby her brought her back to reality. She looked over at where Sven had been standing. He had moved over some, and was pressing his forehead against the wall, his eyes closed tight. After a moment, he looked up.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, little bit of a headache there." He smiled. "Don't worry about me." He stepped back from the wall, sighing. "Shall we continue?" He turned to go, then stopped. There was a distant, thudding sound, and then sloppy, red letters were stamped across the floor without any obvious cause.

_welcome home mary_

_welcome back ib_

_join us downstairs?_

They all stood frozen, staring at the words.

"Ib? Mary?" Kara asked quietly, her voice shaking. "What is this?" Ib shook her head.

"I... I don't know." But she could not shake the same feeling of familiarity that she had felt with the dribbling blue paint. They all heard Helena swallow.

"It's probably a prank. Let's go downstairs and put a stop to it, shall we? This really is **not** funny. You're our **guests**!" She marched off toward the door, and was quickly followed by Kara and Karl, mumbling their agreement. Sven smiled, and bowed lazily to Mary to go first. She glowered at him, but humphed and went all the same. He followed her calmly, but paused at the door, looking back.

"Grandmother?" Adolfa was hovering by the painting.

"Oh, yes, brilliant. **Quite** brilliant. You are deserving of your title, my dear. **This** will do it." She continued mumbling as she turned and wandered past Ib to the door, stepping out. Sven continued holding the door until Ib joined him, then closed it.

"You seemed a bit distressed there." She looked at him.

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing."

"You sure? I know you came to this Gallery nine years ago. It's not got any painful memories, has it?" The question jolted her, and suddenly her mind was providing images she didn't recognise.

_'? World, Guertena. Once you step ?, there is no ? back.' The lights flickered, and she flinched._

_"Mom? Dad?" She called, testing. No answer. She glanced at the picture. There was something blue oozing over the frame._

_Something blue..._

"Ib!" She came back to herself when Sven caught her before she fell down the stairs. She nodded a thanks to him, and descended quickly. The memory was there now, clear as day. She had been nine, and the light flicker had caught her by surprise, and then...

And then she had nothing.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, panting slightly, and saw the others clustered together in front of 'The Abyss Of The Deep, Guertena,' moving to join them.

"I don't like this." Helena was saying. "Where **is** everyone?" She folded her arms tightly, biting her lip. She turned at the sound of Ib and Sven approaching. "Alright, now that we're back together-" She stopped suddenly. "Did you guys hear that?" They all frowned, but then the sound came again, a heavy, grating noise, like something large being dragged. Kara's eyes widened.

"I... I think it came from room six!" Sven whirled to face the offending room.

"D-don't tell me...!" With a crash, the Iron Giant burst through the wall, thudding and dragging itself towards them. "It is! Everyone get out of - HYEEEEEK!" The Giant took a swing at them, and Sven ducked away from it's fist with a yelp.

A **familiar** yelp.

_That... That just startled me. Anyway. Let's go!_

Ib clutched her head. Who had said that? **Who**?

"Ib! Mary!" That was her mother's voice, making her turn. Their parents and Helena were backed up against the 'Abyss' by the robot, and Sven was being shoved over to join them. With a yell, Ib started toward them, but Mary grabbed her wrist and tried to hold her back.

"No, Ib! Don't! If you go, then you'll re-" Whatever Mary was trying to say wa slost when, with a great sweep of its arm, the Iron Giant pushed all of them into the Abyss.

Wait.

In?

* * *

_**I like that ending. I just like it. 'Wait. In?' Reminds me of the 'Ten eye blink in the sudden darkness of Moria' thing from Lord Of The Peeps. I realise Ib says virtually nothing here, but she WAS mostly silent in the game - she'll talk more later.**_

_**It occurs to me, even a nine-year-old should know words like 'through' and 'going,' but whatEVER.**_

_**Shipper? Whose a shipper?**_


	2. The Green Room

**_I recognise that nothing much happens in this chapter. But, since the insect room was essentially the first level, it wasn't too exciting either, ya know? That's also why this is so much shorter._**

**_Another note-what I mean by a cross between endings is that in this, Ib had a very strong friendship with Garry before he sacrificed himself (I warned you, spoilers). It's like, if you're all set up to do the good ending, and then suddenly, it all goes down hill. Also, I took a few artistic liberties with the Mary confrontation._**

* * *

_She thought her heart was going to burst. Blue littered the floor. Blue was smeared on her hands._

_"Wh... _Why_?" The single syllable is all she can muster._

_"In my way." The cold voice replies. "In my waaaay." A hand was held out to her. "We can go now." The blue on the hand looked like blood._

_She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to take the lighter clutched in her fist and light the other girl on fire with it._

_Lighter? Where did she get a lighter? Why was she so angry? What was she missing? _**_Who_**_ was she missing? Who?_

**_WHO_**_?_

Ib sat up sharply, and banged heads with Mary, making her sister fall back with a cry of pain.

"Ah. Sorry." She mumbled, rubbing her own forehead. Mary said it was fine, and stood up to help her to her feet. Most everyone else was already up, standing about and talking. Ib looked around, and felt sick.

Everything was heartbreakingly blue.

Helena saw her on her feet and came over.

"Feeling alright?" She smiled when Ib nodded. "Good. We're not sure where we are, to be honest. This isn't a part of the Gallery that **I** recognise, and I'm the curator." She smoothed her hands over her skirt. "And Sven never knows anything."

"I resent that!" Sven called. He was the only one still on the floor, leaning against the wall with his hat pulled down over his face. Helena rolled her eyes. Adolfa was pacing rapidly, wringing her hands, and Ib's parents were looking concerned.

"Why don't we look around?" The dark curator suggested. "I think there's a door down there." She pointed down the hallway, to the east. After some trouble of hauling Sven to his feet, they headed down the hallway. There was, indeed, a door. In fact, there were two - one right in front of them, and one on the perpendicular wall. Helena moved to the one in front of them first, trying the handle. Finding it unlocked, she pulled it open and peered in. "Looks harmless." She told them, stepping inside, soon followed by the others. The room was mostly empty, save for seven wooden tables, each an equal distance from each other. On each table sat a vase, and in each vase was a different coloured rose. And each vase was labeled:

Orange read 'Karl.'

Green said 'Kara.'

Yellow was marked 'Mary.'

Pink bore the name 'Helena.'

White was labeled 'Adolfa.'

Purple was inscribed with 'Sven.'

And red was 'Ib.'

Standing in front of the vase, Ib felt another surge of deja vu. She knew, though for all the world, she could not tell **how** she knew, that these flowers were important, that they should **not** be left behind. Aolfa had already picked up hers, tucking it closely into her bun. Helena was examining hers, while Sven was taking no notice of anything. Ib reached over and took her rose, sliding it behind her ear. The moment her fingers touched the stem, she felt an odd feeling deep in her stomach - like a part of her had been yanked out in a thin string and tied tightly to the flower.

"We should take these." She found herself saying. Before anyone else could speak, Adolfa turned and beamed at her.

"She knows, yes, she knows. Didn't I tell you, my boy? The girl knows." Everyone looked a **bit** discomforted by the older woman's behaviour, except her grandson, but Ib supposed that he was used to it.

"Ib, sweetie, **why**?" Asked her mother. Again, her mouth spoke without communicating with her mouth first.

"Because they're our souls." Sven pushed his hat up a bit.

"... You mean like, in the plaque in front of Guertena's giant, wilting rose sculpture?" Helena gave him a look. "**See**? I know stuff! Geez!" Ib nodded.

"I... I think so. I'm not sure why, but... I feel it would be dangerous to just leave them here." The others were hesitant, but eventually her parents, Helena, and Sven took the roses from the vases.

Everyone but Mary.

"Problem?" Sven asked her nonchalantly. She glared at him for a moment, then exploded, stomping her foot and clenching her hands into fists, like she always did when she was angry.

"**Yes**! This is **your** fault!"

"Mary, honey!" Kara cried. Sven looked faux affronted, pressing a hand to his chest.

"**ME**? How **so**?" Mary folded her arms.

"All this weirdness started when **you** made Ib read that label!" There was a moment of silence, and then Sven laughed.

"Is **that** why you think so? I only did that because Helena is always saying I should be more 'sociable' with girls. Something about getting a date." Helena slapped her forehead.

"I didn't mean make them **read** things for you!" Mary opened her mouth to argue, but Ib came over and took her hand.

"Mary, please. Just take the rose." The older girl scowled, but she did as she was asked. They headed back out into the hallway to try the other door, as there were no exits in that room. Inside was another empty room, this one bearing a sole painting, and a key. Helena, ever in the lead, bent to down and picked it up. Kara was nervous.

"Are you sure taking it is wise?" Helena laughed and held up a finger.

"Do you know the universal rule of adventure games?"

"We're not in a game." Sven grunted, but no one paid him much mind.

"What it is?"

"Take everything that isn't bolted down, then come back later with a wrench and take all the stuff that **is** bolted down, then take the bolts." Sven snorted, but they all ignored him again, stepping out into the hallway once more. Suddenly, the red letters appeared again, with more vigor.

_thieves thieves thieves thieves_

Kara let out a yelp, grabbing her husband's arm. Even Sven looked slightly perturbed. Adolfa wasn't even paying attention, and Mary was still scowling.

"Put it back... Please put it back..." Kara murmured, but Helena set her hand son her hips, setting a high-heeled foot down on the floor firmly with a sharp click.

"Well, I like **this**!" She snapped. "You've got no right to go calling us thieves when you drop us down here and leave it out where anyone can get their hands on it! Why, I've half a mind to just forget your little game and sit and wait here. So either suck it up and play nice, or prepare to be disappointed!"

The letters stopped.

"Did you just scold a... I haven't the faintest idea what it is." Sven folded his arms. "Wow." Helena smacked his arm.

"Yeah, well I wish you had been that cooperative, destructive little devil. You'd think you'd've known better at nine." She squared her shoulders. "Shall we continue, then?" The others slowly nodded, following her towards the other end of the hall. There was another door, and Karl tried it.

"Locked." Helena produced the key.

"Perhaps **this** will do the trick?" She stepped forward and inserted it into the lock, turning it once. There was a click, and the door spring open. "Never fails." The woman murmured,a nd stepped through first. This room was green, which provide Ib's twisting stomach with welcome relief, and paintings of insects lined the walls.

"Isn't that-" Kara started, and Sven nodded.

"Guertena's work. It looks like we're still in the Gallery."

"Not any part I remember." Helena said, moving forward. She paused by a sign on the wall. "Hmm... 'Stay away from the walls'... I wonder what it means?"

"I don't see a reason for staying away from the walls..." Karl muttered, walking around the table at the opening of a small hall within the room. He took a few steps forward, and suddenly, a blacked, almost charred looking arm shot out from the wall, making a grab at him. He jerked back with a yell, rubbing his arm.

"Karl!" Kara gasped at the same time Helena said "Look at your rose!" The rose Karl had tucked into his lapel dropped a single, orange petal. Ib and Mary's father frowned.

"Odd. It didn't hit the rose."

"**That's** what you think is odd!" Kara demanded. "**Honestly**! And **arm** just came out of the **wall**! Don't any of you **care**?" Sven raised a hand.

"I care." Kara looked at him hopefully. However, Sven just pulled his hat down over his face. "It means I can't lean against them anymore." Kara put her head in her hands.

"Maybe we should go the other way?" Ib offered, and everyone was quick to agree with this. The headed to the other end of the room, to find a wall and another door, this one also unlocked. They stepped through it, and were surprised to find that the room beyond had a horizontal hole in the floor, spanning from wall to wall. It was far too big for a child to cross with out a bridge, but a running jump from all present (even Helena managed it in her heels) was all it took for them to cross. There was another door on the other end, and they opened it without difficulty. Once again, only a single piece of artwork was in the room beyond, one of the 'Death of the Individual' sculptures - a female mannequin in a red sundress with no head. On the centre of the floor lay another key.

Ib was once again bombarded with uneasiness. Not knowing why, she expected the statue by the far wall to move at any moment, regularly glancing at it nervously.

"Ib? You okay?" She looked over at her sister, her face tight with worry.

"I'm fine, Mary. Just a bit unnerved." Mary pursed her lips, her expression not in the least convinced. Helena moved over to the key.

"Well, the first one served us well." She picked it up.

The lights flashed.

And Ib was right.

The statue's arms raised, as if it were trying to feel its way toward them (which made sense, it had no head, after all). It walked in purposeful, lethargic steps toward them. Any normal person would have screamed, as Kara did, or at least been alarumed, as Adolfa seemed to be. But Helena calmly glanced at the advancing threat, turned to the others and said, with utter tranquility:

"Time to go."

They took the hole in the floor at a sprint, even Sven, though he insisted on stopping and catching his breath after they got back into the insect room.

"I'm a natural jogger." He wheezed, leaning on his knees, though no one seemed to be taking him seriously. "Very dangerous over long distances." Once everyone had caught their breath, they had to talk about what to do. No one was keen to go back towards the charred arms in the walls, but it seemed to be the only way. They were getting into a very serious discussion about it when a small voice interrupted them.

"I say! I say!" They looked around.

"I don't see anyone..." Karl said thoughtfully.

"Down here, silly!" Said the voice, and Ib realised it was coming from the ground next to her shoe. There was a tiny black dot on the green floor, and, crouching down, she discovered it was an ant.

"Did you speak?"

"Of course I spoke, my dear!" It said jovially - for she truly had not the faintest idea how you told an ant's sex - lifting up its front legs and clapping their points together. "It is **truly** good to see you again, little lady."

"Again?" She asked.

"Why, yes, again. You look very different now, I'll admit,but I'd know that face and those kind eyes anywhere. Ib was it? The nice young lady who showed me my painting. Don't you remember?" Ib hesitated. And ant painting? She thought about it. And then, suddenly...

"I **do**!" She murmured, surprised. "I **do** remember!" She sat on the floor to lean closer to the ant. "You were wondering where your painting was; I took it off the wall and showed it to you..." Another memory crossed this one, and her heart fell. "... But... But then a statue was chasing me, and I lost it. I'm sorry." Had she not known better, she would have sworn the ant smiled. Another thought occurred to her, that she didn't recall the roses being labeled before, either, but she pushed tat aside, assuming it was because she had been alone.

"Not at all, my dear. That you showed it to me at all was true kindness. Thank you very much." At this point, Helena came over and crouched down beside her.

"Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Ib?" She asked politely. Ib blushed.

"Uh, yes. Mom, Dad, Mary, Mr. Sven, Miss von Bismark, Mrs. Adolfa, this is, er... Ant." The ant reared up on its hind legs and bowed. Or, at least, they thought it did. It was awful tiny.

"A pleasure to meet you all."

"Ant." Ib said, a thought occurring to her. "Is the exit still up past the arms?" It looked like it nodded.

"Indeed it is, young lady. Your memory seems to be coming back." She laughed nervously.

"Not all of it. Just this room and how I got here. I suppose the rest will come to me as I go. Thank you so much for jogging it. Its been bothering me for **years**."

"You are most welcome, though I wouldn't know. Time doesn't move here, you see." It paused, and Ib was under the impression that it was looking at her meaningfully. "Remember that, child. Time doesn't move here." She nodded.

"I will. I promise." She stood, and Helena followed suit. "The arms can't touch us if we stay in the middle of the hall. I remember that. We should be fine if we go single file. The door is on the other side." The others, though still eyeing her strangely, nodded. Her parents were watching her with expressions that said she'd have some explaining to do later. Ib swallowed. "We should work on getting out of here first." She told them softly, and was relieved when first Karl, then Kara nodded.

"Well! Then it's agreed!" Helena said cheerfully, already walking toward the hall. Only Mary hesitated, gazing down at the ant.

"Mary?" Ib called, then tried again when her sister didn't answer. "Mary!" Mary jolted, turning.

"I'm sorry. Coming." She fell in on the end of the line as they marched down the centre of the hall, Kara whimpering each time an arm appeared, Adolfa holding her head like an empress. Once they reached the other side, they regrouped, forming a circle.

"Alright, headcount." Helena announced. "Maybe we should give our selves numbers?"

"Mary? Where's Mary?" Kara cried frantically, but Ib patted her arm.

"It's okay, Mom. She's probably just back at the insect room. I'll get her!"

"Ib, wait-" Karl started, but his younger daughter had already darted off between the hands.

Ib found Mary back in the insect room, just as she had predicted, stomping her foot on the floor.

"Mary! Everyone's waiting for you!" Mary turned.

"Right. Sorry, sis. I dropped something. Let's head out." She walked past Ib, heading towards the exit. Ib was about to turn back, when she noticed something on the floor where Mary had been stomping. She inched over, leaning down to look.

It was the ant, squished flat.

Dead.

* * *

**_Yes, I_**did_** like the ant. Mary, you psycho. Anyway, if everyone seems to be handling this a little too well, be assured, there'll be some talking about it in the next chapter. After all, it**_is_** pretty freaky. They'll address it when they're sure nothing' about to eat them.**_


End file.
